No Turning Back
by pastries and turtlenecks
Summary: They were at that point in their relationship where they realized there was no turning back.


No more than two weeks into his treatment, Chris began showing side effects.

His oncologist had prescribed him a once-weekly intravenous chemotherapy regime. The good news was that, so far, the treatment seemed to be making slow progress. Of course, he still had to deal with the negative aspects.

He stood in front of the bathroom mirror one day, frowning and running a hand through his thinning hair. He tried to smooth it out so it covered more of his head, but to no avail. It was noticeably duller, having lost its usual shine.

"Spend any more time fussing over it and I'll have to start calling you Kevin." Chris saw the reflection of his boyfriend James leaning against the doorway in the mirror. James walked up and wrapped his arms around Chris's waist. "How are you feeling today?"

Chris shrugged, leaning his head back on James's shoulder. "Alright, I guess. I was a little nauseous this morning, but after I ate I felt a bit better."

James kissed Chris on the top of his head. "I'm glad to hear it." He gave him an encouraging smile, but Chris's face remained emotionless. "You're still beautiful, if that's what you're worrying about."

Finally giving in and smiling a bit, Chris stared at James's reflection in the mirror. "It wasn't, but I like being reminded anyway."

They shared a laugh, and James couldn't help but notice how much less joyous Chris's soft chuckles sounded than they used to. He was ecstatic that the therapy was working, but the physical and mental strain it was putting on the young man was hard to think about.

Clearing his head, he leaned over the other's shoulder to look at him, not just his reflection. "So, your birthday's coming up, you wanna do anything special for it?"

Chris stepped out of James's hold and turned around to face him, shrugging his shoulders. "Not really. We can just have Connor and Kevin and Arnold and Nabulungi over and hang out or something."

"But we do that every week anyway," James said with a frown. "Not even a nice dinner at a nice restaurant?"

Chris shook his head. "You know I don't really like a lot of attention. I'd be perfectly happy just spending the night at home with you."

Sighing in defeat, James pulled Chris into a hug. "I'm still getting you a nice gift, alright?" Chris didn't bother objecting, so he just leaned forward and kissed James to end the conversation.

It was a good thing they hadn't made big plans, because five days later, Chris got a call from his oncologist that he'd have to come in the next day for treatment. The next day, which just so happened to be his birthday.

_'Happy birthday to me,'_ he thought sarcastically, sitting on the exam table while the doctor prepped his injection on the other side of the room. He glanced to his left and his gaze lingered on the encouraging smile James was giving him. At least his boyfriend was there with him.

He winced as the doctor approached, gently taking his arm. He kept his gaze trained on James, who held out his hand for Chris. The smaller man took it and squeezed with all his might when he felt the needle poking through his skin. He absolutely _hated_ injections, but if it's what the doctor ordered, he'd tough it out. And if James was willing to put up with his death grip, he'd manage.

"Good job," the doctor said encouragingly, disposing of the needle and cleaning off the injection spot on Chris's arm. "Next week we'll be running a few more tests to check on your progression. Just remember to take your pills around this time tomorrow, alright?" she said as cheerfully as possible.

"Yeah, of course," Chris said dryly, as if he had to be reminded of that. They briefly exchanged pleasantries before James and Chris left, and the doctor greeted her next patient.

Chris was silent as they walked back to the bus stop, and mostly stared into space as the sat waiting for the bus. "Anyone in there?" James teased, waving a hand in front of Chris's face. Chris barely snapped back to attention, staring at James with vacant eyes. James sighed. "Look, it's still your birthday, how about we go out and do something fun?"

Chris shrugged. "No thanks. Why don't you go out or something? You don't have to stay behind because of me."

James sputtered a bit before responding. "Are you serious? I'm not going to leave you alone on your birthday. If you wanna stay at the apartment, we'll stay at the apartment." He tried to remind himself that the doctor had mentioned mood swings as one of the side effects of treatment, and it made him feel slightly better.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Chris said with a sigh. He reached over and took James's hand without another word.

"Don't apologize," James replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. The bus pulled up and they got on, flashed their passes, and took a seat. "I did get you a gift, though, and you have to promise to open it."

"I think I can handle that," Chris said with a smile.

* * *

Later that night, James attempted to cook a birthday meal.

They both knew that Chris was the only one with any cooking skills beyond the basics necessary for survival, but James insisted on treating him anyway. He ended up overcooking the spaghetti and burning the chicken, so Chris just kissed him on the nose and handed him a phone and a Thai food menu. James apologized profusely, but Chris insisted it was alright, and thanked him for trying.

They still had a good time, and Chris made sure to remind his boyfriend that it was his idea in the first place not to do anything fancy. He opened his gift after they ate: a nice plaid newsboy cap.

"Since you were so worried about your hair," James had explained, "even though I keep trying to tell you you're still beautiful."

And Chris had smiled and put it on almost immediately, but James couldn't help but notice his mood had dropped significantly. Still he continued to insist he was fine, but James saw right through him.

Finally, just as he was about to snap, James took a deep breath and put a hand on Chris's shoulder. "Look, Chris, I know you're going through a lot right now, and that your treatment is affecting your mood, but I don't know how much longer I can take this funk you're in."

Chris blinked owlishly. "I'm sorry?" he offered, unsure of what James expected of him.

James shook his head. "Don't apologize; it's not your fault. But it's still frustrating. And I've thought about this for a while and I could only think of one possible way to cheer you up, and I wasn't going to do this for a few more weeks but you leave me no choice." He got to his feet and began heading down the hall. "Just stay there for a second, I need to get something," he called over his shoulder.

Chris leaned back against the couch and pressed his palms to his eyes. Everything was suddenly so frustrating and stressful and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt awful for everything he was putting James through, and honestly couldn't think of a reason for the other man to still be with him.

His pity-party was only interrupted when James reentered the room. He sat down next to Chris and took both of his hands in his own. "So, I probably don't need to waste my time telling you how much you mean to me, and how I love you more than anything, because I tell you that every day and you're probably getting sick of hearing it. But sometimes I can't help but feel like the message isn't getting through to you. Sometimes I can't help but feel like you don't understand that you're everything to me.

"When you got sick, I thought that was going to be the end of everything. I thought you'd give up hope and that would be it. But you always had this amazing smile on your face that would just light up the room wherever you went. You weren't going to let this disease slow you down at all. But now…" he trailed off, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Chris's hands. "Now it seems like I was right. You never want to do anything anymore. Your previously unstoppable optimism has all but disappeared. It's like you're letting this disease control you."

Chris shot James a look. "If this is supposed to be a pep talk, I sure hope you don't plan on ever going into motivational speaking."

James shook his head. "Just stay with me on this, alright?" Chris looked at him expectantly, so he continued. "That made me realize: you need me more than ever right now. And I need you more than ever. Because the only way we can get through this is together. So I decided it's time." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvety box.

"Oh my god," Chris muttered, eyes wide.

"When I figured that out, I tried to think of some way to let you know that I'm going to support you through everything. I talked to Arnold about it and he told me there's only one surefire way to completely devote yourself to someone. So I got you this." He flipped open the lid to reveal a simple, silver band. "It's nothing fancy, but I know you don't like having a lot of attention on yourself, so I figured it was fitting."

Chris kept glancing between the ring and James and the beautiful ring and his _perfect_ James. "Is this really happening?" he barely managed to get out, eyes wide.

James reached out and lightly pinched Chris's arm. "Looks like it," he said, smiling. "So, Christopher Thomas, what do you say? Will you spend the rest of your life with me, however long that may be?"

The smaller man could feel his eyes well up but did his best to not let any tears fall. "For a second there I thought you were going to dump me," he said.

James gave him an 'are-you-serious-right-now' look. "Dump you? Are you kidding me? Did you hear anything I just said or do I have to give that heartfelt speech again?"

Chris laughed softly, shaking his head. "No, I heard you." He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around James's neck in a tight hug. "Yes. Of course. Yes," he kept repeating, making sure James got the message.

James finally kissed him to get him to shut up, and slipped the ring out of the box and onto his finger. "Beautiful," Chris muttered, a tear finally slipping down his cheek.

"Yeah," James agreed, wiping the tear away with his thumb. Neither of them were talking about the ring.

* * *

Some two weeks later, they had a modest wedding. Neither of them thought it could really be called a wedding, actually. Chris was still a little too meek to want a big ceremony, so they just invited their friends over to their apartment before heading off to the City Hall, where it was made official. James nearly had to step out of the room for a moment when Chris read his vows; he never really liked letting people see him cry.

Staying true to their simplistic values, their rings weren't fancy, either. They weren't traditional gold bands often seen at a wedding, no, James Church would never be that cliché and predictable. Instead of cold metal, they opted for thin strands of leather, woven together in a criss-cross, each engraved with either man's name, linking them together in an endless circle.

They went back to their apartment afterwards and had poptarts and cupcakes (courtesy of Kevin, who was a surprisingly good baker), and Nabulungi performed a scaled-down version of a Ugandan marriage ritual, claiming it wasn't totally official until she did so. Apparently she'd done the same for Kevin and Connor, and planned on doing so for her own wedding ("If that big dope would ever pop the question!" she'd whispered to Chris when Arnold was out of earshot).

Later that night, as they lay together in bed, limbs tangled, they finally felt like there was nothing else in the world but _us_. No cancer, no issues, just a feeling of togetherness.

"Today was perfect," Chris muttered through a yawn, nuzzling into James's neck.

"Absolutely," James agreed, tightening his protective hold around the other man.

"You know what this means, right?"

"What's that?"

"You're stuck with me for good, now. No turning back."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."


End file.
